<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Night on Estes Avenue: Beyond the Lakes by raindropsonevermore</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320941">A Night on Estes Avenue: Beyond the Lakes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/raindropsonevermore/pseuds/raindropsonevermore'>raindropsonevermore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Night on Estes Avenue [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, Taylor Swift (Musician), evermore - Taylor Swift (Album), no body no crime - Taylor Swift (Song)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Canon Relationships, F/F, F/M, LGBTQ Characters, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), POV Original Female Character, Sad with a Happy Ending, Swearing, Unplanned Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:01:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/raindropsonevermore/pseuds/raindropsonevermore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The original concept work of A Night on Estes Avenue: After Marjorie's younger sister suddenly vanishes, things begin to take a turn upon discovering another woman in her home; she uncovers a life-long conundrum with her longtime friend Amelie, her husband's behavior changes in a 7-day timespan. With the help of Amelie and her sister, Marjorie must uncover and close her sister's missing-persons case.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Night on Estes Avenue [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153730</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>as this is the original concept of A Night on Estes Avenue and therefore this comes after the final product that i published first, i would recommend reading that one first before this! this one is also shorter as it was meant to be 5 chapters until i changed it to 7, and disclaimer: some of the chapters and parts from the first work will be copied into this work with some minor clean-ups, but otherwise there will be some unreleased content that was kept out of the final product. mostly everything in this version isn't canon except for relationships and anything that happened in the final version, hence why this work has the tag "murder mystery" and the final version has the tag "attempted murder."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>He did it. He did it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>My name is Marjorie. Surname Ainsley, but honestly, fuck my surname. I grew up in the Southside of Westport with my younger sister Clara, raised by our mother after she returned home one day to find our father having an affair with a neighbor when Clara wasn't even of age to learn who Dad is. Long story short, we have hatred for him with a passion, and our mother had eventually met a man who gave multiple shits about family, despite having no relation to Clara and I, and our mother, whom he went on to marry. He makes every dad-joke anyone has ever said, but he's not the piece of shit who previously lived with us. It's not so fun, being the youthful age of 7, overhearing your mother shout at your father and his mistress when they were caught fucking in <em>her </em>bedroom, knowing it's the same bedroom where <em>her </em>children were conceived, 22 years and 17 years prior. He knew he still loved her, but the argument to end their 23-year marriage had drawn the line. Now? Clara is with our parents, and just one year ago had I put my hand in marriage to my husband Alan, and soon had we moved into a house on Estes Avenue, the most vintage yet modern location in the Southside.</p><p>Fridays were the day I would meet my childhood friend Amelie, and occasionally her 18-year-old sister Anne, at May's Café in the Town Center. Amelie was raised in Nice, France, and later arrived in the States with her family, when she began attending my elementary school. And my middle school. And my high school. She was French, now fluent in English, but I fucking loved it. On this Friday the 14th of December we had returned to Amelie's apartment, with Anne, where she had offered me champagne and croissants that she and Anne had baked the previous day. The croissants? Great. The champagne? Usually perfect, but on this day, absolutely sickening.</p><p>"Marjorie, my dear," Amelie began. "You've refrained from drinking your champagne, is everything alright?" Amelie had always been <em>the </em>friend—the one who would stay on your side and look out for you. I had been concerned I was pregnant after experiencing the typical symptoms, feeling often sick had been the major symptom, and at this time I had never planned to become pregnant, but in my heart had I known since I was fifteen that I wanted to have children of my own.</p><p>"These previous three days have not been my cleanest," I told Amelie. "I haven't been thinking about this recently, but I've gotten the idea that it's possible I may be-" Anne had interrupted me after receiving a message from their mother that she wanted her to return home before her curfew. I explained to Amelie that it was best for me to make it back home because I was under the weather. She noticed. She knew. Did she mention it? Not even once. She knew it was best for me to get home and rest.</p><p>Upon returning home I had seen through the windows, the lights Alan had either shut off or dimmed. Not one light was remained on except for the kitchen lights and a dim light peeking through the window in our bedroom—it was a lamp, not as bright, but had emitted enough light to shine through our second story window. The house had appeared very homely, recently cleaned, yet just too clean for Alan. I felt exhausted and approached the stairway to make it to bed. Alan was normally not a silent sleeper, but tonight he had remained quiet as a winter's night. I discovered Alan had been so quiet in bed because he was in the midst of sleeping with another woman. In the midst of their likely unprotected session, when they had been completely idle, no movement from either of them, no sounds but their whispers to each other. I was shaking, in complete disbelief, nearly sick.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Alan," I had calmly exclaimed, shaking as I stood in the doorway. "What the fuck is happening?!" He noticed the distress in my voice, that I was sober that I usually hadn't been on Friday nights, that I was in shock. This had been the first time I returned home without two or more glasses of champagne in my body. Alan attempted to speak, but I had not been in the mood for anything. I felt unwell, tired, had the thought I was with child, <em>his </em>child.</p><p>"I do not have the time nor the patience for your bullshit. You've completely disrespected our marriage, you've disrespected me as your wife and as a woman. I don't want to see your shit or your face in my house again, and you have twenty minutes to get your dumbass and Blanche out. Don't fucking bother coming back, because I sure as hell don't want you to come back." I knew Alan's behavior did not seem right. Only three days ago I told Alan I thought I could have been pregnant, and he was completely shy of me, not a word from him. He didn't want to give me a child as much as he knew I wanted one. Within those twenty minutes Alan left with Blanche, who had attended the same high school Amelie and I had. She liked Alan and the majority of the men for those four years; she was annoying as hell and didn't deserve any words I ever spoke to her. She appeared quite beautiful now at 23, but still that bitch never deserved my time.</p><p>The following morning seemed like a nightmare. It was just half-past seven when I received the call from my mother. The most distressing call, which, despite the night before did I see my now former husband having an affair, was a call I had to hear. Never in my life would I think I would have or want to hear these words spoken to me. I didn't want to finish the call, but I knew I must. </p><p>That morning, she told me her husband, our step-father, had passed on.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Marjorie's Side, Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Three weeks after Marjorie received her mother's call regarding her step-father's passing and inheriting a portion of his wealth, she attempts to keep her mind clear in her own way, and even meets an old friend from her high school years. The original concept of Part I of II of Marjorie's Side.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok i know the summary says this is the original concept but this is also the final concept of this chapter so not much has been changed!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three weeks since my step-father passed on that chilling December night, when my mother found out he had peacefully passed in his sleep in the night, due to natural causes. The weekend after had I attended his funeral with my mother, sister, and other relatives from my mother's side and his side. Following the funeral we inherited the majority of his finances, per his request that he had wanted for years, in the event that he could die. In the new year I received my portion, the only good I had in the year so far. Just days after his funeral was when I divorced Alan's ass and didn't want to see him, or his mistress Blanche, for the years to come.</p><p>Overtime I would talk to Amelie and her sister, knowing how much they both, most especially Amelie, had cared for me. I had eventually explained to her that I thought I was pregnant, until I stayed at her flat with her for a weekend, where I tested myself twice to be completely sure if I was expecting or not. Both tests resulted negative, which I had high hopes for as I hadn't planned to have a child, let alone Alan's. Turns out my menstruation cycle for the month had something completely new for me. Even if I was single, I still had interest in finding a significant other, someone who would actually love me, care about me, <em>that </em>someone.</p><p>For the days I returned home from Amelie's, there was nothing but self-care and relaxation that I could provide for myself. Alan wasn't around anymore, so if I decided to smoke in my house while donning my fine black sleepwear that I wore the night I thought I got pregnant, then I fucking would, because in these moments I didn't give a shit. I was now alone, felt more attractive than ever before, drank all of Alan's wine and made myself sick, still with absolutely no fucks given. That night I completely wore myself out and fell asleep right in my place, where the next morning I woke up on the floor, seeing the sunlight as it was gleaming on the snow and peering through the curtains.</p><p>On that morning I ventured outside my home to visit May's Café, without Amelie's presence. Inside the café, still had I met someone I once was in a relationship for one year, before I began to settle my life with Alan. In this moment I knew he was a better man that Alan had currently been, and I had been somewhat desperate to meet someone. That day we talked and talked, about the sophomore and junior years in high school when we were together to where our lives were now. Of course, he now found out I was single, and I found out he was <em>also </em>single, and we still had interest in each other, and I wasn't mad about it. So on that night, we drank champagne in his hotel room, where eventually we found ourselves sleeping with each other, and it was safe to say that he knew how to take care of a woman's needs, physically and sexually, unlike Alan. Soon after we would rest there, catching our breath, when he soon brought up Alan and what a shit man he now was.</p><p>"Are you serious?" I asked him; I didn't want to hear a single word in relation to Alan, not now and not ever again.</p><p>"Yes, of course," James replied. "Even his friends knew how to treat you with respect, <em>and </em>to treat you with respect, especially Blanche, considering she was almost very self-absorbed." I fucking disliked Blanche with a passion now, I didn't care how pretty she had gotten over the years. I never trusted a narcissist even if she was the only one I had known, but it was almost as though she somewhat had an interest in me. Still, I didn't want to hear anything about her nor Alan.</p><p>"I meant, <em>are you serious</em>, this is what you're thinking about right now?" He didn't respond. I immediately released myself from the gentle grip of his right hand on my waist and his left hand on my shoulder, and told him <em>goodnight </em>as we lied bare beside each other.</p><p>The next morning I left a note on his nightstand and departed from the hotel while he was still dead asleep, not waking him at all despite moving around the room for nearly an hour and doing my morning routine. Amelie and her family had returned to France for over one week, so I returned to my mother's house for the same period of time to make the long days subside. I dearly missed my talks with Amelie, those afternoons at the small, homely café on the corner in town, and those late evenings of sharing champagne, and occasionally her homemade French delights. Inside my old bedroom, I would lay restlessly as I gazed at the ceiling that was like that of the crisp blanket of snow outside, and its dark corners, my eyes panning around the room and its light blue color, that shade of blue—so similar, yet so light in comparison to the blue in Amelie's eyes—reminded me exactly of her comforting, yet slightly intimidating stare. The thoughts from my lonely nights had taken me back years when she and I had became great friends, more than the previous years when she had recently arrived from Nice. It wasn't until a midsummer evening after our sophomore year in high school when I began noticing how stunning she always had been in everyone's presence, always appeared well-cared for, like she had enjoyed any form of self-care there was. Her skin had always been completely clear and soft in appearance; her flowing black hair always smooth and curled at the ends, her alluring blue eyes against her skin, more pale than I thought I had appeared. Everything about her was pleasing to the eye. Her image in my mind made me feel as if my heartrate increased drastically, but also like I could feel a repetitive beat in another place that wasn't my chest.</p><hr/><p>The day after Amelie returned to her flat was a Friday. She didn't give a single shit about the jet-lag from the flight, and of course, she was willing to visit May's on that afternoon. Her sister Anne chose to not accompany us, she was exhausted and had to return to school the following week. I had hope she would stay back, even though I didn't mind whenever Anne was with us, but this time—on this one day—I wanted to be with Amelie more than ever. She would return to Nice about twice per year, but this time it felt different, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to <em>tell </em>her. She hadn't noticed how nervous I appeared, how much I thought my heart was racing, possibly because she needed her long nights of sleep. Upon returning to her apartment we had drank champagne as we traditionally did every Friday evening. I informed her that I had met my ex from high school.</p><p>"Is he still as charming as he was?" Amelie asked me. She hadn't been with any men, it was almost as if she didn't show any interest in them, apart from a time when she returned to France, when she was visiting Paris and had met someone who also was native to Nice. It was just one day they spent together. They never kissed, hugged, fucked, it was nothing but small talk with each other for 5 hours.</p><p>"He very much is," I stuttered as I began speaking. Even if he brought up Alan after sex, the thought of him and how well he continued to treat women made me smile the smallest bit. "Alike us now, we had drank champagne but we fucked, and it was everything I needed." Amelie immediately placed her glass of champagne on the end table beside her, nearly choking on what she had just drank, and I could see the slight shock in her.</p><p>"My God, Marjorie, you fucked another man? Another man, who wasn't your husband, and you didn't hate it?" She was definitely shocked I had slept with another man, but I hadn't slept with Alan since two weeks before I could smell the infidelity on him, and I had thought I was pregnant and never saw a single need to sleep with him again.</p><p>"I fucked another man, and it wasn't bad. He did mention Alan and how much of a dick he is, but I wasn't interested in hearing anyone speak of him. I would actually prefer if we could discuss other things, more importantly <em>not </em>men?" My heartrate felt as if it continued to increase, but I was attempting to keep myself calm leading up to the moment.</p><p>"You <em>don't </em>actually want to talk about men and their stupidity? Cheers, my love, I'll fucking drink to that." No shit, Amelie was definitely no longer sober, but she was right. I had finally not wanted to talk about men even if I just slept with one for the first time in a month. She finished her current glass of champagne and began to pour herself some more and continued another drink.</p><p>"Amelie, I'm bisexual," I looked straight into her eyes and told her as quickly as I could. "Right now I don't give a single shit about men, but I definitely have always given every shit about women." I knew Amelie was the friend anyone would have ever needed and was very accepting as a person, but even telling her how much I actually like women is not easy.</p><p>"I'm a lesbian, and I couldn't give thirteen fucks about men, either. I'll say that I'm impressed you even wanted to sleep with another man, though." I was nearly in disbelief. I knew Amelie wasn't too interested in men as I had seemed, but I was never completely sure who she was interested in.</p><p>Those winter evening hours passed in a heartbeat. That night I stayed with Amelie, when we soon saw each other in her bed after we finished our champagne with each other. Nothing but us and her comforting duvet, in her dark and peaceful bedroom where that night's crescent moon would glow outside, and it would glow enough to bring a small ray of light that would shimmer on our faces, our arms and our chests, and the moonlight's glow on her blue eyes was a gorgeous sight—even if it was just her eyes together with the moon's glimmer, I had never seen anything like it before. Amelie could kiss like nobody kissed me before, and she could do it quite sweet and sensually, it made me wonder how often do you have to kiss someone to kiss the way she could? Amelie had never dated a single person or been intimate with anyone, but I was completely distracted from everything I had previously thought about. I didn't mind what she was doing in the moment. I was comfortable with everything she did, wherever she wanted to place her hands, whatever the fuck was going on as long as I could tell her if something she was going to do would make me uncomfortable—I didn't mind it, not even with the scent of the champagne on her that made it clear she had consumed enough. She gave me her consent and I gave her mine, but she did what she wanted. </p><p>We were awake for over one hour. We didn't want the night to end. I could see the sleep in her eyes, her beginning to struggle to stay awake as we laid beside each other with the soft rose flush still present in our cheeks. I wanted to tell Amelie <em>goodnight </em>but in the moment she had completely put herself to sleep in an instant.</p><hr/><p>The following morning I awoke with Amelie facing towards me, still asleep. There was nothing I could do but admire how she appeared as if she hadn't slept at all. Her hair still appeared well-groomed, smooth and curled at its ends like she had done it the day before. It was just half past seven, when the sun was beginning to rise and at the same moment, Amelie awoken as I had been staring at the beautiful colors in the sky.</p><p>"Bonjour," She said to me calmly. She hadn't said that to me, or simply spoken much of her mother tongue, since the first time we met after she arrived from Nice. I just smiled at her, knowing I had felt completely relaxed and comfortable with her. The ten hours of sleep I had were fucking amazing and what I was longing for. After the December I had and the week without Amelie, I hadn't slept as much as I would on any day. For the next ten minutes would she again place her hands along my body, from my arm to my thigh, wherever she knew I was comfortable and we would kiss each other with the afterglow of the sky's alluring colors and the rising sun, that was, until the sound of my phone beside me on Amelie's nightstand, would slightly startle us.</p><p>"Fuck," I said distressed, yet quite calmly, as I didn't want to worry Amelie. "I have to leave, I better go." I quickly moved to the edge of Amelie's bed where I sat to dress myself in my clothes that I removed the night before.</p><p>"Is everything alright?" Amelie had worry in her tone. She knew something was wrong, the previous times I stayed at her flat I would never leave as the sun was rising. "Do you want me to go with you?"</p><p>"I- No, you need to stay here." I knew I liked Amelie quite more than a friend, but this currently was too personal for me. It would have been stressful to explain to her, but she understood. She knew if I had to leave <em>this </em>early, something was off. I appeared disturbed and filled with worry, compared to the night before with the flush in my cheeks, how relaxed I felt, and the oxytocin my body was releasing. I quickly left Amelie's flat to get to my mother's house. As I stepped through the front door, sure enough, reality had completely been changed.</p><p>My younger sister Clara had vanished the night before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Marjorie's Side, Part II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning after coming out to Amelie, Marjorie returns to her childhood home where, after finding out from her mother, her younger sister Clara has disappeared. The original concept of Part II of II of Marjorie's Side.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes again i know the summary says "original concept" except i added the short excerpt i kept out of the final version where Marjorie answers some questions for the polygraph test, very boring but that's what i originally planned!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There I arrived upon my mother's doorstep on that January morning. Sure enough, the entire vicinity surrounding the home had become a crime scene. Several police officers searching almost every inch of the property, the distress in my mother's voice traveling through the air, enough for anyone within distance to understand something was happening in the neighborhood. Estes Avenue's vintage appearance had never seemed so disturbing, with the single willow tree in the cul-de-sac and the winter snow creating the typically comforting vibe, it began to look somewhat eerie. The Southside had been known for being quite welcoming, and crime being very rare apart from the occasional drunk drivers, multiple residents had lived outside of Westport itself before living anywhere in the city, including Amelie and her family.</p><p>I didn't want to abandon Amelie at her apartment that morning, still in the Southside yet an everyday 25-minute drive to Estes Avenue. The drive now had felt like hours, even with the slight sense of euphoria that was still present after being with Amelie, quickly turning itself into worry. Living in the current unknown with your sister being who fucking knows where was a nightmare. I grew up very protective of Clara, seeing how our mother cared for her, especially after she divorced our dad. This had become a reason I knew I eventually wanted to have children, but after my recent experiences with men I hadn't been so sure when I would decide I wanted to become pregnant.</p><p>That morning I spoke to nearly every officer on the premises. I almost couldn't bear having a complete conversation with my mother, with the worry in her face, and knowing she had felt slightly guilty that she didn't do her job of looking out for her youngest child. Even if Clara was nearly of age to understand she could take care of herself, she and our mother knew she wouldn't have been prepared for that step in her life. She wouldn't have known when she would be able to move out. After a short discussion with mom, I had still been attempting to keep myself calm as I decided to step into our house to gather my own thoughts of what happened when Clara vanished.</p><p>"Are you a resident here?" One of the officers asked me, as I was about to make my way towards the stairway. </p><p>"Somewhat, I would suppose," I responded, trying to make it as clear as possible that I <em>was </em>living in the house at some point, with my appearance being strongly similar to that of Clara's. "I'm Sheila's daughter, and I'm Clara's older sister." </p><p>"Be cautious of your surroundings, please," He told me, no shit would I be cautious of walking through the home I was raised in. I wanted them do to everything they could to locate Clara.</p><p>I walked up the stairway to the second floor, immediately heading towards my sister's bedroom on the left. The scene of her room had remained almost untouched, still with its very clean and organized look that Clara had always cared for. Her guitar created from wood and painted black, gifted to her by boyfriend, had been resting on her bed, where she most likely had been playing it before her disappearance. I had been wary of not touching it nor anything in her room, but as I looked closely at its body I had seen remains of drops, some of which had been directing themselves to the edge of the body. The drops were completely dried where they were, not seeming as if they had any color in them. I couldn't locate any signs that Clara had bled anywhere in her room, but I knew that she recently had left her boyfriend after two years. Clara wanted to leave him, but she had always been sensitive. I could almost picture it, that she would have been crying as she sat there on her bed, with her teardrops falling onto the body of her guitar and several of them ricocheting off the guitar and back again onto it.</p><p>I explored the remaining rooms of our house, where the majority of them had looked as if they hadn't been touched, slept in, or stepped through. The entire house had not appeared closely to a crime scene, only to find out as I walked back out to the porch that there was never a crime <em>at </em>our house, they had just wanted to collect information to begin a proper search for Clara. When I was with Amelie the night before, at the same time Clara began her walk back home. She was close friends with Anne, and had been visiting her. Amelie's family lived only one block away from our home on Estes Avenue, not too long of a walk back, but Clara knew to be safe and cautious at night no matter where she was.</p><hr/><p>Nearly a week had passed since I learned of Clara's disappearance. I decided to tell Amelie two days after I found out, and she would be there everyday through my hardest times, and she would take any time out of her days to participate in any searches for Clara. My mother and I had agreed that we would be questioned by the police to understand we weren't involved in her disappearance in any way, and completed polygraph tests to be entirely positive we had not an idea what happened or where she was now.</p><p>"Were you aware Clara was leaving Friday night?" The first question had been.</p><p>"I was not." I responded, keeping myself calm with the state of nervousness I was in, almost sweating as if I was athletic. I understood what the test was determining as I answered the questions, with the needle-like thing drawing up an image that was similar to the display of your vitals that you would see beside patients in hospitals.</p><p>"Do you know her current location?"</p><p>"I do not."</p><p>"Are you involved with any persons who could have abducted her?"</p><p>"I am not."</p><p>Soon enough, the interview was finished. I tried to view the test as it was happening without directly moving my eyes to focus on it; I didn't want to make it seem like I was a person of interest and was anxious about the test possibly showing that I may have been lying.</p><p>My mom then had her test conducted, and finally we both passed our tests without a single failure, and although this was not related to her disappearance, I had explained to the police that Alan was having an affair and I made him gather his shit and move out to be with Blanche. Just like when I found him sleeping with her, I began to experience the same symptoms from my previous menstrual cycle, which this time I disliked much more. I didn't want to be out searching for Clara only to start feeling more unwell than I had been with the anxiety I constantly was having.</p><p>The day after we found out we successfully completed our tests, the first search began on the route Clara was walking on that night. Multiple residents had sent tips to the police on what they had seen, where they saw her, and what had happened when she was gone. It was confirmed she was taken before she could reach the corner of the street, Anne's house not too much further from where we started the search on the entire street. Of course, as we were all looking around, I had felt highly nauseous and hurled right there in the street beside Amelie as I gripped her hand.</p><p>"Are you alright, my love?" Amelie asked me, immediately becoming concerned for my well-being. "Do you need to rest?"</p><p>"I'm fine, I'm okay..Yes," I wanted to continue participating in the search, but I absolutely wanted to rest. I felt physically and mentally overwhelmed, and at that moment I sat down with Amelie to hydrate myself. Never had one of my cycles been so harsh to me, with both the headache and the nausea together, but I knew when I would begin menstruating it would become worse. Amelie and I decided to return home so I could try to relax myself and stay hydrated.</p><p>The next day, still had I felt like shit, although I was confused because not a single time would I notice I was even menstruating. Amelie had left me alone to rest, while she and her sister were going to be interviewed by the police and conduct their polygraph tests. My headache had decreased greatly, but I continued to feel sick often in the morning. I was concerned, as my cycles had continued to be the same every month since I turned twenty-one. I took myself to the bathroom where I discovered my third pregnancy test that I had kept after using the first two from when I found out I wasn't pregnant before. So of course, I decided I should test myself and on the edge of the bath was where I waited nervously.</p><p>"Shit," I quietly said to myself after I began to see the line meaning <em>positive</em> appear. I was pregnant, and it hadn't even occurred to me that I was in the midst of my fertile window when James and I slept together. I knew my desire to have sex had increased, most especially when Amelie was in France for that week. Besides that, I had become concerned for my child's life. I had drank nearly three glasses of champagne on the night Amelie and I came out to each other. I discarded the pregnancy test, even if Amelie was going to see it. She knew I had sex with him, and I had began dating her soon after she and I had sex. I left the bathroom and returned to bed for rest, where I had decided to message Amelie to ask her when she would return. She never responded, which had worried me for a short time, until I heard her call my name from the front door, and I met her downstairs. </p><p>"How do you feel, Mar?" She asked me, before giving me a kiss on my cheek. For only a few seconds, I stood there in front of her, nervously looking into the sea that was her blue eyes, reminding me of the night James and I conceived our child, but also the several nights I laid awake in my old bedroom where I missed Amelie.</p><p>"I'm pregnant." I slowly, yet somewhat quickly told her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Amelie and Anne's Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Partially in Amelie's perspective, she and her sister Anne must be questioned by the police in the midst of searching for Marjorie's sister. After returning home, Amelie finds out some unexpected news from her girlfriend. The original concept for Amelie's Side.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so Anne was originally going to have her own side of the story but i didn't include it bc i'm a dumbass but in the original concept she did and since i never wrote in her perspective this chapter has an excerpt that is in her perspective now!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Tuesday. Marjorie and her mother recently had been questioned by the police, and they both agreed to participate in polygraph tests to confirm they weren't involved in her sister's disappearance. Today, Anne and I were going to be questioned and complete a polygraph test as well. I awoke very nervous, not wanting to alarm Marjorie as she had already been feeling unwell, but I wanted to do everything I could to help find Clara. She had began feeling very sick, maybe due to the constant worry about her sister, but I knew her next period was coming after her previous one had given her lots of nausea, which she had never experienced before in her cycles. I opened my eyes, where I first saw her with some sleep in her eyes and she had been looking at her phone, likely talking to her mom.</p>
<p>"Bonjour," I calmly said to her, knowing it could still make her smile even while she was worried. I rarely spoke my native language to her but anytime I did she always loved it. She did smile the slightest, it almost looked as if it completely awoke her. "How are you feeling?"</p>
<p>"Shit, like pure shit," She told me, and I always hated when she would talk bad about herself. "I suppose I'm slightly better than yesterday, but I'm just worried, and I almost feel like I don't know what to do at this point."</p>
<p>"I know, my love, I know, but everything will be fine, we're going to find your sister." Marjorie was almost emotional. I was always there when she upset or angry. It seemed too early for her to begin feeling this way. I had to be talking to the police with Anne in less than 2 hours, but I wanted to be there for Marjorie first. We had kissed each other for some time, before eventually resting my head on her chest. "Are you sure you want to be alone?"</p>
<p>"I'll be okay, trust me." I knew Marjorie would be fine by herself for hours since both Anne and I were doing this on the same day, but I didn't want her to be alone for too long. She had always enjoyed my comfort and she would often feel less worried. Eventually I left and met Anne at the police station. I decided to be interviewed first, for a chance that I could get back home quicker. Completing the polygraph test had lasted longer than the interview. There were several more questions to answer, I had felt more nervous than I was nearly 3 hours ago. Not only was I carefully processing the questions they asked, but also how I was going to answer them, and the thought of Marjorie being alone and how she was feeling. I still had been thinking about a specific question I was asked before the polygraph test began. They wanted to know when I found out Clara was gone, and I responded that Marjorie hadn't told me until two days later, and the morning she found out she was too worried to tell me. They knew we had sex the night before, and explained that they were suspicious of Marjorie until she completed the polygraph test without fucking it up.</p>
<p>"Do you feel suspicious of Marjorie? Your spouse."</p>
<p>"Oh, fuck no. Not a bit."</p>
<p>"Why did she sleep with you at the hour her sister disappeared?"</p>
<p>"Is that relevant?"</p>
<p>"For our knowledge. Marjorie is clear but we're referring to you."</p>
<p>"We drank champagne together. I wasn't very sober but she was, she came out to me as bisexual and I told her I'm a lesbian. I felt close to her and I wanted to kiss her. I took her to my bedroom and we were fucking for almost the entire hour. It was very pleasant." The thought of that night made me giggle, almost dazing off as I was being questioned.</p>
<p>"Have you been drinking, <em>Mademoiselle?"  </em>The sudden French gave my attention back to them. He wasn't French, but he had the common knowledge of an American who wasn't fluent but was aware of the most basic words. I chuckled at their question without trying to make a mistake.</p>
<p>"Non, non." He sighed as I answered.</p>
<p>"The test is over. Let your sister know she can come in in a moment."</p>
<p>It was finally over, all the anxiety was gone, and I decided to buy food nearby while Anne was now being interviewed — or that's what I planned, until I received a message from Marjorie. She had been longing for me to return home, which she normally had not asked me before. I knew she finished both the interview and the polygraph test in less than 3 hours, which was the same for me, but the food could wait. My parents stayed at the station while Anne was still there, and quickly got back home to see Marjorie. She met me at the door, where I had just called her name and I saw her arrive at the end of the stairway. </p>
<p>"How do you feel, Mar?" I asked her before kissing her on the cheek. She didn't answer, I could sense that she was still nervous yet relieved I was finally back. We were making eye contact for quite a while, and she almost didn't react to seeing me after I knew she had been waiting for me to come back.</p>
<p>"I'm pregnant," Marjorie said to me, in a slow but quick manner. She was <em>never </em>expecting her period like we had previously thought.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Amelie was suddenly gone. My parents stayed back as I was taken in for the interrogation.</p>
<p>"Bonjour, Anne."</p>
<p>"Bonjour." I said shyly as I sat at the table.</p>
<p>"Do you know Marjorie well?"</p>
<p>"Oui. I was very young when I met her and I don't remember meeting her. I could not speak English at all but Amelie would tell me in our language what she is like. I'm not close with her like my sister, but I do know her well."</p>
<p>"And her sister?"</p>
<p>"Clara, I think, is my best friend. We were infants when my parents introduced us, and when we were older she wanted to talk to me but I didn't understand."</p>
<p>"So how often would she talk to you?"</p>
<p>"Everyday. In school, after, through messages. We would talk to each other about everything."</p>
<p>"Did she tell you she was meeting someone, anything?"</p>
<p>"Non. She said she and her boyfriend were broken up but she was okay, she didn't seem upset, I think she knew she wanted to leave him. But she never said she was going to meet someone."</p>
<p>"Did she seem interested in anyone else, at all?"</p>
<p>"Je ne sais pas. I am not sure she would be ready to meet another boy so quick."</p>
<p>"Alright. Should we proceed with the polygraph?"</p>
<p>"Oui."</p>
<p>I was in there for hours. The different questions almost moved me to tears, to be in this situation to not know where my best friend was, or who she was with. I missed her so much, but for the test I kept myself as calm as I could, with how nervous I was.</p>
<p>"I asked your sister this same question, so I ask you too, are you suspicious of Marjorie?"</p>
<p>"Non, no. She loves her sister and I have understood that since I learned English, but Marjorie is like a sunflower in Paris in the summer. She's very bright and beautiful but she's delicate and gentle. I don't think she would hurt anybody."</p>
<p>"We talked to Marjorie and your sister about this, but do you know what happened the night Clara went missing?"</p>
<p>I glared at him, thinking about that question. I didn't understand it that well or know how to answer. Obviously I hadn't known what happened.</p>
<p>"Non?"</p>
<p>"Your sister was sleeping with Marjorie, at her apartment, and Marjorie didn't know she was gone until the next morning. Clara disappeared from home while your sister was having sex."</p>
<p>"They fucked? That explains a lot, to be honest. But I was there when Marjorie told Amelie she was gone. Marjorie was having a breakdown about Clara. I know she did not do anything wrong."</p>
<p>Soon it was finally over. I believed I passed it, or that's what I thought. They didn't seem suspicious of me, but I did almost become emotional and I was almost exhausted after the time I spent.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Anne."</p>
<p>"Merci."</p>
<p>And there I left with my parents.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As I told Amelie I was expecting, I could see her eyes light up, the shock appearing in her face, she could be absolutely pissed that I was pregnant, or not, which I was hoping for. Even though she never had interest in men, I knew we had discussed children before, but she was definitely sure that she didn't want to become pregnant herself.</p>
<p>"You're pregnant?" I couldn't quite hear in her voice whether she was upset or not. Of course she knew about the night I had sex with James, but neither of us ever thought about the idea that I could be pregnant. My previous cycle treated me like shit, so we expected that my next cycle was also going to be the same, after I already got sick in the middle of searching for Clara. "Are you <em>sure </em>you're pregnant?"</p>
<p>"Amelie, I took a fucking pregnancy test, I know I'm pregnant." I almost couldn't believe Amelie was questioning if I was really pregnant or not. I know she definitely hadn't been thinking about having a child with me already and I knew I wasn't either, but I <em>knew </em>I wanted to have the baby, and if Amelie didn't want to raise the baby with me, then James sure as hell could. As I said that to her I could hear it in my voice that I began to sound somewhat angry, that I was starting to shake. "Are you serious?"</p>
<p>"It's alright, babe, I'm not mad." Amelie cupped my face in her hands to keep me calm. I felt relieved that she had even said that. In the short amount of time we were together and rarely talked about children or even marriage, it completely surprised me that from this moment I knew she <em>did </em>want to have a child with me, eventually. We sat down together to talk about her interview with the police and of course, the baby, because I wanted Amelie to know that I was already concerned for its life. "Are you going to tell James?"</p>
<p>"Well, yes, but I'm just slightly concerned about him or her." Even if I didn't want to have a baby with Alan during the time we were married but thought I got pregnant, I quickly made the decision that this time I was going to keep the baby, even though I didn't feel prepared for it, I knew I was in a relationship with someone I actually wanted to be with. "You gave me champagne after I fucked him, and now he or she may not even survive the entire 40 weeks. I want to have the baby, Amelie, I really do, with you even. And if it doesn't live, you know I'm going to feel guilty as shit."</p>
<p>"Marjorie, this is why I think you shouldn't worry. The baby hasn't been in there as long as you think, the alcohol has been out of your body for a long ass time. I may not know shit about pregnancy but I can assure you the baby's going to be fine." Amelie was right about not knowing much about pregnancy, but she knew how to keep me calm. I did just learn about the baby's existence but she was absolutely right. At this point it had been too long since the night I consumed those two glasses of champagne, and even my body itself was learning that I had fucked someone I felt comfortable near at the peak of my fertile window and it was my time to become pregnant, after all the times I had been intimate with Alan and never got pregnant.</p>
<p>For the first time since Amelie and I slept with each other, I felt the most relaxed I felt. I was the most confident I had ever been during Clara's disappearance, knowing that some day we were going to find her and have our answers. My baby was Clara's niece or nephew and they made me feel closer to her. I wanted Clara to be here to know I was pregnant, to know I was probably going to marry Amelie, to know that we were putting all of our time and effort into searching for her no matter how far she could be. Her life was as important as my baby's life. That night as I was lying next to Amelie, I heard her very quietly ask me if we could have sex, and before I could even answer her, she had already given me her consent, so I gave her mine. It was only a short time that we would kiss each other and Amelie would sensually kiss me on my neck before I decided that now quite wasn't the time I was interested in fucking at all. Even if I knew how well Amelie could kiss like she had done before, I decided that I thought we should stop.</p>
<p>"Amelie?" I quietly said her name, with the mild euphoria I had that nearly made me moan softly at the exact moment I said her name, but I didn't. But even though Amelie was the one who wanted to fuck, she stopped doing exactly what she had been for the two minutes after we gave each other consent—she knew what she wanted, but she was respectful. "Could we stop? I'm not so sure I'm in the mood to fuck for a while." Amelie immediately lied next to me the minute I asked that, without even hesitating to do it.</p>
<p>"I'm almost surprised you wanted to stop, if I'm being completely honest. Is everything okay?" What the hell did she mean she was surprised? Was it because I had sex with my former husband, thought I got pregnant, then divorced him, only to meet my high school ex and actually become pregnant, then come out to her after she returns from France and give her my consent? I loved Amelie and respected that she understood I didn't want to have sex, but I could tell she had as much sexual desire as I had on the night I got pregnant. I wasn't sure if she was in the middle of her fertile window like I recently was, but I was sure as fuck that she had two hands and a brain that would be able to help her while she unconsciously experiences R.E.M. Maybe I was right and definitely had no interest in sex currently, but she did, and she could take care of herself.</p>
<p>"Everything's okay, but I would prefer to not discuss it until tomorrow, if that's fine with you. Goodnight, babe." I turned away from Amelie with the hopes that I would manage to sleep through the night with my body finally in a relaxed state. I could feel Amelie moving closer to me so she could spoon me to sleep, like she would often.</p>
<p>I went to sleep confidently, with high hopes that tomorrow's search for Clara would bring some light to her case. Tomorrow was another day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. All is Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In the final chapter of the original concept, Marjorie and company visit one of the lakes after suspicious activity was reported, and soon discovers Clara's location. They learn what happened in those weeks, and in the fall Marjorie welcomes her baby with Amelie.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi again so ofc this chapter is mostly the original concept but a minor character wasn't in the original concept so they're not in this chapter and obviously the ending is different than the version i published first! but again a lot of the text from the final version was still part of the original concept so some of that text is in this chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>He did it. He did it.</em>
</p><p>It was just one week since I learned I was pregnant, and Clara had currently been gone for two. There was not a single thing that led us closer to finding her, until recently my mother informed me that her neighbors had claimed to have seen Clara at one of the lakes while vacationing at their lake house, but only saw her through their second-story window on one evening, and never saw her again. The lakes were, obviously, a series of lakes in a certain region of Westport, that being the Eastside. I had visited the Eastside before but never the lakes. I was aware that they were absolutely gorgeous, with their waters being as blue as the color of Amelie's eyes and their beautiful, natural forestry. The lakes had appeared quite close to one another on maps, but in reality were miles from each other. Today we were to start our next multiple searches all three of the lakes, and we were determined to find her there. All the lakes were together in that region, with the first lake having an exit on one side of it that began a route to the entrance of the second lake, and that was the same for the third lake.</p><p>This entire week I had felt nothing except like shit, when I was constantly nauseous, making me feel unwell enough to eat less, and my sleep schedule became off and I could never sleep as well as normal. This had made Amelie and I refrain from having sex at all until I began to feel better, and I knew Amelie would want to fuck as much as possible before I would decide when we should stop since I was pregnant. Fortunately for both of us, I woke up Friday feeling as if I had just fully recovered from having a chilling virus. I never had morning sickness like I usually did, and the previous night I was slept cozily, the most comfortable sleep I had since the previous week. This morning I awoke to Amelie's ocean blue eyes, something I hadn't been used to since I began sleeping in her bed with her. I had always woken up before her, but since I managed to sleep so well she decided she slept enough and would wait for me. Because I knew Amelie had been so interested in fucking recently, I thought I would ask her if she was in the mood for it, because she already had my consent and she wasn't aware of it. I wasn't completely in the mood for it, but I felt refreshed after my night of sleep. If Amelie wanted to fulfill her unusual desire for sex, then she should be allowed to.</p><p>"Hi," I said to Amelie with a calm but slightly raspy voice, still admiring the gorgeous sapphire-like color in her eyes. "Do you like to fuck?"</p><p>"You know I used to not give a single shit about it." And she was right. She had never kissed or had sex with anyone before, and still I was surprised how well she could kiss and of course, how well she could actually fuck. "Why are you asking <em>now? </em>You would like to fuck after not for one week, <em>wouldn't</em> you?" It made me blush the way she asked, with her French accent almost sounding a bit different as it often did when she would wake up in the morning. I gave her my consent without her asking, so we fucked as the sun was rising. Even in the morning with the small amount of sleep in our eyes, Amelie found herself enough energy for it, and it was clear she had been waiting to kiss me the way she did the week before when I decided we weren't going to have sex. The sensuality that came from her gentle kisses and her fingertips on my chest and forearm felt unreal, as if I had never felt anything like it before. My need for sex had been fulfilled, and Amelie's <em>definitely </em>did now, but as I was slowly inhaling and exhaling I told her she didn't have to stop yet. I knew how much she had desired to have sex, and because we're women, if she wanted to have another orgasm after her previous one then she sure as hell could. Everything felt less intense than the first time, but I thought Amelie should be taken care of before it became very obvious I was pregnant and we would stop sleeping with each other for multiple months.</p><p>After staying in bed for another 20 minutes simply just fucking, Amelie and I were planning to meet James at May's Café because we had both agreed that I should tell him that he had gotten me pregnant. He also was staying in town because he made the decision to assist in a few of the searches while he was away from college for two weeks. I was nervous about telling him, because I did tell him that I began a romantic relationship with Amelie very recently after I slept with him, and I knew he still somewhat had interest in me, but I was no longer interested in him and he would be unable to fulfill his role as a father. When we met him, I didn't hesitate to tell him that I was going to have his child, and he was surprised, not even upset at all, that he was going to have a child that he would very rarely see in-person. He <em>did</em> want to have children, but admitted to no longer having any feelings towards me that would want him to have children with me; he thought it would be great for him or her to have two mothers, be raised well and grow up bilingual. He mentioned that he hadn't met someone <em>yet</em>—but at the college he was currently attending he was quickly becoming interested in a girl. I asked him if he would be participating in today's search, to which he said he was. We departed from the café to begin the 45-minute drive to the entrance of the first lake, Marine Point, and James followed.</p><p>Soon we arrived at the lake, and from there, we began the search as soon as we arrived. Police were out on the water to search for the possibility that Clara's body was submerged in the depths of the lake. Amelie and I made our way around the perimeter of the lake that was adjacent to the entrance we just drove through, with some doubts that Clara had possibly drowned. Then again, there were two other lakes to search in, but I didn't want to believe that she could have drowned. She loved to swim and would do it whenever she had the chance, but she was smart and well-behaved. Whoever she was with, if they didn't allow her to swim at all, she would have listened—whoever it may be, she still would respect them—it's how she and I were raised, and she couldn't quite live on her own yet. But at this point, she hadn't been in my mother's care for weeks and definitely knew how to behave when something would go wrong; if she was in danger, she knew how to act smart and prevent anything that could lead to her death. During the search, the officers on one of the boats shouted at us that they located a weapon in the water. It came into their possession now, with the possibility that it was recently used and who could have used it. Surprisingly, they had found almost nothing beneath the lake's surface, besides the weapon. It was completely clean and natural with its forms of life, and had no signs of any bodies or remains of any.</p><p>After this was when the police on the search boat had received a message from others at the station back in the Southside. A message that I was so fucking relieved, yet somewhat nervous to hear upon them announcing it to us, and I felt I had the right to be nervous for one reason and one reason only.</p><p>Someone had seen Clara with a man at the second lake.</p><hr/><p>It was Merrell Lake where Clara was sighted, not alone but was with a man, whom the person that reported it could not completely identify his appearance. Today we were headed to Merrell Lake with the hopes that we would see Clara, and the piece of shit who took my sister would be taken into custody there. As for our search at Marine Point yesterday, we came upon nothing besides the weapon that had been a hunting knife, just barely preserved inside of a plastic bag that the police found at the bottom of the lake while searching through the water on their boat. After ceasing the search did they return to the station where the knife would be examined, which to me now almost seemed pointless, since we just learned Clara was seen again—she was still alive. The search was to begin in the early afternoon, and the duration of it would last from the moment we arrive until the sun has almost completely set, or if the authorities would conclude that there were no signs, no evidence, nothing to prove that Clara was there. We were to meet the family who had seen her with the man at their lake house, who had also agreed that they would participate in the entire search. But for now, it wouldn't be until noon that we would leave, and Amelie and I currently had four hours to do whatever we had wanted. We weren't going to have sex everyday like I had thought Amelie might want to, since she had been anticipating it for so long, especially yesterday morning when we fucked for the first time in a week. I had awoken during the night, though, after I could hear Amelie's breathing become slightly heavy, and eventually she started to moan softly. I didn't even have to question it, she was definitely dreaming about someone, most likely me. Hours later, I had woken up before Amelie, as I had experienced morning sickness for the first time in days. I decided I would have a shower while I was up, and came out of the bathroom to see Amelie was awake, and she looked up at me with her piercing blue eyes; we did nothing but admire each other from a short distance for some time.</p><p>"Did we fuck last night?" I knew I was sure we did, even though it was only just Amelie. I had never paid much attention to her cycles, but after she began showing more interest in sex, and was even having it while she was sleeping, I was highly sure she was in the peak of fertility. She let out a soft, quiet but raspy laugh immediately after I asked her.</p><p>"You were great," She replied. Her response made me blush. Her dream had been entirely different compared to what it would have been in reality. I normally had not done anything during sex, besides kiss Amelie and frequently stroke her smooth, flowing black hair. "When do you suppose you will begin showing?"</p><p>"Are you asking so you know how often we can fuck? Because it's only about a month before I start showing the slightest." I didn't mind that Amelie wanted to know, being a person who didn't know much about pregnancy, but if she <em>did </em>want to know how much we could have sex before I wanted to draw the line, then I felt it was appropriate for her to ask, but thank God she never cared about sex at all when she would begin menstruating. "You should get up and get ready, I want to take you somewhere." Since I found out I was pregnant I had been thinking about taking Amelie to my house, where I hadn't been back to for weeks after walking in on Alan and Blanche fucking. I wanted Amelie to move in with me months before I would have the baby, in an open and comfortable space where we could raise them. I wanted to renovate the house, and allow the baby to have their own room, which I wanted to decorate as soon as we found out the baby's gender. As for Amelie's apartment, I thought that she could decide if she would let Anne live there. She was old enough to begin caring for herself, and had loved learning to cook and bake different foods. I knew she adored the apartment that Amelie decorated herself, with some remnants that reminded her of France. She had a small model of the Eiffel Tower, photos of the Louvre, the Seine, different iconic locations in France that were mounted on the walls and in frames on the tabletops, multiple items placed so neatly within the interior.</p><p>Amelie got herself up and ready, and we soon departed to head to my home. We arrived, and Amelie was confused as to why we were there. She hadn't been there since we began looking for Clara, and didn't think I would want to return at any moment. We walked inside, hand-in-hand, and the house was as it remained on the night I saw Alan with his mistress. It was still clean as if someone was living there regularly, very inviting, but I knew the vibe of my second-story bedroom would anger me after the sight from then. We sat down at the breakfast table together, where I wanted to talk to Amelie about the idea of moving in, and how I wanted to renovate nearly the entire house.</p><p>"I'm quite surprised you've wanted to come back here, babe," Amelie said to me as she gazed around the room. "If you've wanted to come back here, there must be a reason for it."</p><p>"You're right," I began responding. "And that reason is because I'm not too sure your apartment is the right size to raise a baby, so I thought maybe we could raise the baby here."</p><p>"Here? Because I thought maybe we could raise the baby in Nice for some time." I raised my eyebrows as she said that. I had thought that at some point we would visit France together, especially before I knew I was pregnant, but as I thought about it I realized it was bound to happen. I wasn't of French descent, but I had known James was since him and I were together in high school. I had told Amelie that he was, but I reminded her because I wasn't sure if she had forgotten. She remembered, and thought it would be appropriate for the baby to learn of its surroundings in Nice as well as Westport, and that when they would learn to communicate they could speak both English and French fluently.</p><p>"I-I mean we could do that, but I was thinking of renovating the house and raising the baby here for a while. Maybe we could stay in France next year?" Amelie had not yet returned to France this year, and would return in the spring or summer, and then again return before Christmas and celebrate the New Year. I had never been to Nice, or anywhere in France, but I was sure that Amelie would invite me to visit with her family. They were planning to go to Nice near the end of May, and were to stay there for three weeks. She and Anne were raised in a traditional French house, and had owned an apartment in a building which they gave to Amelie if she ever returned to Nice alone.</p><p>"<em>Or </em>we could go back before the New Year." I didn't want to argue about it, but it sure was difficult to decide when to travel to Nice. My Christmas could be completely different this year if we don't find Clara, or if we <em>do </em>find her, but without a pulse. I wanted to enjoy my baby's first Holiday season, and I wanted to enjoy it with Amelie's family and my family.</p><p>"Amelie, I'm having the baby here, we're renovating the house, and we'll go to Nice the week before Christmas, no questions asked." This was my final decision, it was what seemed most right to me, but I knew my decision could change if we were to never bring Clara home. What I knew is she was still alive, but that could change in a matter of days.</p><p>We were at the house for over one hour, discussing how I wanted to renovate it and what our plans for the next thirty-eight weeks were. It gave me some light, knowing it wasn't Alan who got me pregnant, that he wasn't going to be involved in my life anymore, that Amelie was going to be the baby's other mom, even if she wasn't related to the baby at all except for that they would both be French. Eventually we left the house to head to Merrell Lake early, to eat at a local restaurant before the search. The timing was perfect, leaving the eatery close to noon, and driving the short 5 miles to the lake, where we had met the police at the lake house of the family who saw Clara. They invited us inside, and we all made our way to the second floor, to catch the view of the sun shimmering upon the lake's crystal-blue surface, surrounded by the mountain's peak and the miles of trees towering over the lake's perimeter. The mother then invited us into she and her husband's master suite, where her laptop had been left on the bed, which their cameras outside the house could be monitored. The camera on the backside of the house was in the place where they had a second-story porch, had captured video from the previous day, which we viewed together to see that Clara and the man were in the field of view before they had passed in front of the window. I could quickly confirm it was Clara, but the man was not quite as recognizable. He appeared quite tall, an average height for an adult male, his hair was dark, but not quite in like mine nor Amelie's, and his body was about a medium build. The thought of it worried me, to me it almost felt like a murder-mystery novel—did I know who it was? I had the highest hopes I didn't.</p><p>When we were finished inside the lake house, James had just arrived, and there we began the next search. I informed him about the man from the camera footage, thinking it was a possibility that he could name some people that could possibly match the man's appearance. He listed the people to the police as well, in the case that this man could be someone they have been seeking for longer than Clara has been gone. None of the names were familiar to me. Those that he named he also mentioned were near Clara's age, making it possible that she could have met the man, even could be in a relationship with him and suddenly left home with him. It didn't sound right, knowing Clara would never just leave home, even if it was with a friend, boyfriend, or anyone she would know. During the search, one of the officers announced the results from the examination of the hunting knife they found the previous day, and they concluded that it had no connection to the case, at least not <em>this </em>case, but kept it in their possession, deeming it was odd that someone had discarded a hunting knife inside of a plastic bag to later toss into a lake.</p><p>We were searching on the side of the lake that the lake house was on, for the entire search. Amelie and I had decided to leave the lake soon — until I peered my eyes around as the sky was beginning to glow orange as the sun was setting, when I paused to look closer at what was on the other side of the lake — it appeared to be Clara with the man.</p><hr/><p>Yesterday evening I saw her in the flesh. On the other side of the lake, underneath the deep green trees, there was Clara with the man. I alerted everyone who was participating in the search, the police asking us to "flee in a calm manner" while they quickly got into action to follow them across the lake. I wanted to stay there with Amelie, being sure that Clara would be okay and she could come home. We couldn't. The family who first saw them retreated back inside their lake house for the night, with multiple views of the scene from their windows and patios. Amelie and I returned to her apartment, as I was in a panic, my heart rate increased the moment we left Merrell Lake. Amelie was a very relaxed soul, she knew how to keep me calm and distract me; she knew it was best for me to not feel so negative while I was pregnant. She did it well, keeping me nourished and hydrated that evening. She even prepared a warm, soothing bath for me and placing out a book I was currently reading. Soon enough I was almost entirely relaxed, and was hopeful that I could sleep through the night and wake up to news about Clara. I would calmly breathe in and out as I tried to sleep, and I didsleep peacefully, until I was awoken at seven. I had received a call, I was positive that it was <em>t</em><em>he </em>call. My hands were shaking from the anticipation, of what they would say, what had happened. Amelie was waken by the sound of my voice, sitting next to me and listened as I was responding to the call. I broke out into tears as I hung up and placed my phone back onto the night stand. They never found Clara but found blood, that had been fresh from someone's body, presumably hers. The samples they took had results which they strongly assumed were from Clara, with nobody in sight as they discovered the small puddle. Today, just like when we heard she was at Merrell Lake, yet another family reported that she was seen, this time at the third and final lake in the series, Auburn Bay. What the hell was going on that led her to be seen at all three of the lakes?</p><p>I relaxed myself with the warmth of my morning shower, and we were informed that the search would be private—nobody but the police would be searching for her—they were confident Clara was still there and would begin searching as soon as possible as to not risk the chance that she could no longer be there. For the day, Amelie and I were to reside at her apartment where she wanted to help me in not focusing too much on the current situation.</p><p>"How do you feel, my love?" Amelie asked me that morning. Her voice, even after waking up, had always been so soothing, it was like she could release audiobooks if she wanted.</p><p>"I <em>really </em>don't want to talk about it." I told her after letting out a sigh. Through my peripherals I could see Amelie move closer to me where she placed her hand under my chin like she was cupping it, and kissed me on my head then my cheek. Still, her kisses were gentle, and as I looked at her I quickly saw her move to where it seemed like she was going to straddle me. She didn't, almost as if she was embarrassed about it, and instead she leaned towards me to again cup my face with her left hand and her right hand moving from my arm to my thigh, where I stopped her. "We're not going to fuck." I told her politely, knowing she was more often interested in sex, but today didn't feel appropriate for it, like before, when I asked her if we could stop as we were already having it.</p><p>"I'm sorry." She replied, almost sounding slightly upset, and she moved away from me to sit beside me. "If you don't want to be cared for sexually, then it does not mean you cannot be physically and mentally." That was one of the many reasons I loved Amelie—she had always been a caring person, she never put her needs before anybody else's. She wanted me to shower before she would, and for that entire day she would do anything in her power to keep me out of thought of what was happening at the lake. She would make tea for the both of us that would assist in stress relief, as well as using her light blue essential oil diffuser with a lavender-scented oil that was meant to be calming. My hair had eventually dried, and she offered to brush it and put it into a braid. We were in her cozy, France-inspired living room that was beside her kitchen, where she sat upon the sofa while I sat with my legs crossed on the soft grey carpet that was against the dark wooden floors. She would brush through my hair with her fingers and not only the hairbrush, allowing me to relax knowing my baby was in my womb and the situation at the lake was going to be handled.</p><p>"Even from the back you are very beautiful, Marjorie," Amelie told me, making me blush at the thought of her admiring my back as she gently groomed my hair.</p><p>"Are you-"</p><p>"I'm not talking about your ass."</p><p>"I thought you might be."</p><p>"Which I'm not, Hayes."</p><p>"Shocker. You have had quite the libido recently, have you not, Moreau?"</p><p>"And now you insult me."</p><p>"<em>That's </em>an insult to you?"</p><p>"It is not. But yes, you are really lovely." Amelie giggled before she responded, as I could begin to feel her fingers in my hair as she was starting the braid. "Everything will be alright, and the snow outside is very thick and cold. You and I will stay in here where it is warm and you can be more warm with my presence." Soon Amelie finished the braid, and I stood up to feel it resting between my shoulder blades, and turned around to see Amelie pan her stunning eyes from my eyes to my legs, like she had been still admiring me. "You look like an American singer with your braid and flannel, do you not?"</p><p>"I'm twenty-two, not thirty-one, Amelie."</p><p>That day passed like the months of a long isolation. Amelie's goal was to keep me there with a positive mindset and let the police do their work while we relaxed back home as a snow storm began. That night I was relaxed enough, and became comfortable with the aura of the fireplace as the moon's glow began to peek through the black curtains. Amelie made a homemade French soup she loved, not wanting me to do anything for myself during the day. She and I would sit on the carpet beside the fire, where only after a short time, it was like I could feel Amelie had succeeded—I was calm and relaxed, she was sure that my needs were met, but I knew she wasn't finished. As we talked I often noticed her quickly move her eyes to look at anything that wasn't my eyes. Like any other day, I assumed she was desperately waiting for sex. It was like the thought of it sparked a feeling in me, and eventually I looked at myself where Amelie had been—my chest, with the slight cleavage that was visible. I looked up again at her, when she stopped and started to blush.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Mar, I-" </p><p>"Don't be." I interrupted her. As we sat there she inched closer to me where she cupped my face with her hands and she began to caress my cheek with one thumb as we kissed. It wasn't very long until we were lying on the floor with nothing but the light of the fire and one lamp and the surroundings of the apartment were barely visible in the darkness, with the blanket Amelie had wrapped around her that was now covering the two of us, with our clothing piled together beside us. For the first moments I didn't mind the touch of the softness of the rug against my backside, that was, until Amelie's intense climax almost felt as though I was slightly being pushed against the floor, until it was over and she was resting her head below my neck with one hand on my shoulder and the other on my chest. "Could we go to your room? Your rug must be fucked up now, literally."</p><p>"I would suppose. Also, my bed is too comfortable to resist fucking in it." I almost questioned her remaining desire to still have sex, as if her need wasn't fulfilled—but I understood her, I hadn't felt the intensity of the sexual peak like she had, I felt <em>nothing</em>, it was like I hadn't felt anything as we were lying there. We walked up to her room together, where it resumed comfortably with her duvet over our torsos. Amelie seemed as if she still had plenty of energy, trying to breathe normally yet heavily. The comfort and space of her bed was like I never lied in it before. Her second peak wasn't intense like the first, but mine had been, and soon it went. Amelie's cheeks seemed more flushed than what mine had felt. "Relax while you can, babe. Night." She kissed me once more before laying beside me to sleep. I <em>did </em>want to relax as I tried to sleep, with the oxytocin that my body had just released, the same with Amelie as she lied there. I <em>was </em>relaxed, but I knew in the morning my life could change.</p><hr/><p>I awoke before Amelie that morning. Still I had felt at peace from the night before, calm like I was that day. She slept well like normal, not waking up soon after me like she would. I had my shower, and left Amelie's bathroom to see her sat up in the bed, one of her hands just barely holding the duvet over her chest, and my phone in the other, visibly vibrating in her grasp. It was <em>the </em>call. I became very nervous, as I walked over to sit on the bedside to take the call as Amelie listened.</p><p>Clara was found the night before at Auburn Bay. They searched in and out of the lake for everything they could. The officers were accompanied by cadaver dogs to search the perimeter, while others were out on the lake, where unfortunately, Clara had been left, eyes open. It completely broke me, to hear the words <em>Your sister is deceased</em> spoken through the phone. Clara had been stabbed in her abdomen and thigh, missing her heart and lungs, but she intentionally was left in the lake to struggle with her wounds and lack of energy to attempt to save herself. The call didn't last long, and instantly broke into tears after it was over.</p><p>"Oh, my love, I'm so sorry." Amelie held onto me as I cried onto her bare chest. I was second to know after my mom, and I felt it was only right to go back home to stay with her since there was not another presence there.</p><p>Amelie joined me in going, where she had been there but not the house. My mom was devastated, but felt comforted that we were there. She and my baby were currently who I had that were related to Clara. We visited the police station together, where we learned of the suspect's arrest. It was Alan. My former husband, conflicted with his love interests but wasn't satisfied enough to stay committed to his marriage. Apparently, Blanche lost interest in him, and Alan was alone but furious. Alan had a boating license for ten years of his life, after all the time he spent with his father and was encouraged to get his license at fifteen. I didn't want to know how he did it, but he convinced Clara to leave home with him, and most likely threatened her enough to terrify her to not try to get help. He took Clara onto the lake, where he gave up and violated her life, only to force her into the water and flee. I briefly saw him, where I didn't give him the light of day a moment besides giving him the finger—both of them. </p><p>"She was nice, Marjorie."</p><p>"Fuck you and everything you have to your name, Alan."</p><p>"Keep out of my girlfriend's life, please."</p><p>"Right on, <em>Frenchie</em>."</p><p>"Oh, fuck you!" Amelie said to him with all her anger, as she escorted me out of the station, also giving him the finger as we walked out. She loved being native to France, but hated names like what Alan called her—anything that directly referred to her nationality, apart from French words such as <em>mademoiselle.</em></p><p>The funeral was the following weekend. Amelie and I refrained from our traditional afternoons at the café, still mourning over my sister's loss. The burial followed, of course, where multiple different flowers were buried with her—roses, tulips, lilies, orchids—all placed neatly across the walnut coffin as my mom kissed the end where her head was. <em>I'm sorry, my youngest </em>were the words my mom said as they were preparing the coffin to be put in its resting place. We briefly saw Clara at the funeral, where her eyes had been recently closed as though she served her time to eternally dream of some epiphany after everything she had seen through her life. Despite the pale tone in her and the chilling feeling of her like the thick snow outside, she was almost stunning. Her eyelashes were rested below her eyes, her black hair placed on her shoulders, the single rose in her hands clearly loose in her non-existent grip. As we viewed her, my mom quietly explained to her that she would see our step-father again.</p><hr/><p>The spring and summer months passed as Amelie and I began to refrain from having sex, and it was in the midst of the beauty of spring when we learned of the baby's gender. It wasn't until August when Amelie and I left her apartment to Anne and moved into my house—<em>o</em><em>ur </em>house. We began the renovations, with our main focus being the baby's room. The walls became painted the most soft of colors, lighter than a summer's evening with the surrounding furniture that had fit so well to match the room and its endearing feeling where Amelie and I were to spend the most of our hours with the baby. I turned twenty-three at the start of the month, receiving gifts that would soon be helpful as my mom felt that I needed possibly every baby-related item or article of clothing that they found to be cute. Even James and his girlfriend gifted me gorgeous but artificial roses of different colors, but still had the wonderful scent that was a pleasure to my senses. As for Amelie, she wanted to give me nothing but kisses on the cheek and a book that she thought would help me learn French quicker. I quickly made the decision that I would have an epidural to ease the pain of labor, and the moment I decided, Amelie and I discussed how James would be involved in his child's life, if he were to be at all. We decided that it would be suitable for James to meet the baby in the hospital after they're born. I wanted the baby to see his deep blue eyes, hear his soothing voice, be in the comforting grip of his arms and hands, surrounded by their family and relatives. I wanted them to grow up knowing he was their father, and even if he wasn't going to be involved in their everyday life, it was absolutely appropriate for him to occasionally see them and spend time with them as they grow up.</p><p>Soon autumn arrived. In September I had fall-themed maternity photos taken by Amelie and a photographer, most especially Amelie because she adored photography hence the original photos from scenes in Paris that were in her apartment, but when October arrived and I became closer to having the baby, I decided to have some final photos taken specifically for Halloween that would be coming in three weeks. I was awoken at nearly four in the morning on October 6th to what I knew was the start of labor. My water broke naturally, which was almost embarrassing to me, to know that it made Amelie laugh despite how exhausted she felt, and thought I wet myself until she took it seriously and agreed that it was time to go to the hospital. I didn't experience labor for long, it had almost seemed as if my baby was eager to come out. At the hospital it was only Amelie and I, until we notified our parents and her sister who both quickly arrived with anticipation, and Anne knew she wanted to be in the room when I was having the baby. It was still slightly painful even with the painkiller, but I knew it would be completely worth it in the end because I was about to meet my baby who I hadn't been expecting to have at twenty-three, but knew they were what I needed most as my sister was gone. I allowed myself to relax by singing quietly, with the same tone I eventually would use for calming the baby. That was, until they informed me I had been fully dilated, and that within a matter of seconds it would be over and my baby would be in my arms. It took all my energy I had, but soon enough she was here. Her little cries of life were somewhat pleasing, that after the weeks she spent in a cramped part of my body that she expanded with her growth, she could feel relieved to be exposed to the new environment but be comforted by her mother's touch while surrounded by her other mother and her aunts. She appeared so perfect, with her skin as soft as the walls of her room back home, the small layers of hair upon her head, nearly as dark as my hair, ending in a soft curl in the center. Soon she opened her eyes the slightest, just barely making out the sea-blue color that matched not only her father's, but also Amelie's. Her weight was average for a newborn, and she was completely healthy and there had definitely been no chance that she was affected by the amount of champagne that I consumed at the time my body had been learning that I had another life to care for.</p><p>My mom and Amelie's parents were invited into the room, where I was currently learning how to nurse my baby. The feelings it gave me kept me relaxed and comfortable, as she calmly fed while nestled in my arms under the blanket of my bed, with the little pink hat on her head and her hand in a fist as it was resting on my chest. She ate more than enough, and remained surprisingly calm. Amelie had informed James that his daughter was born, and by the time he arrived everyone in the room had already held her. My mom adored her, as well as Amelie and Anne's parents, as their mom could be heard whispering sweetly in French to the baby. Their parents couldn't speak English well, but could understand it more, but Amelie and I knew they would be a big part in teaching her French. James soon walked into the room, instantly focusing on the sight of his child in Amelie's arms. It was almost like she knew an unfamiliar presence was in the room; she opened her eyes more than before, noticing the first male she ever saw.</p><p>"Do you have a name, Marjorie?" James asked me, before admiring the similarity of his and his daughter's eyes again.</p><p>"Amelie and I agreed on a name months ago, but her name is Elizabeth," I responded with every confidence that the name was still a perfect fit for her. "Her middle name is Clara." I had long ago decided that her middle name would be my sister's. I wanted her to somehow be named after Clara, after the hours we spent finding her and the effort we put into her search, and it was a memory of her. Her first name, though, hit me while I re-read one of my favorite works of fiction about a chess prodigy in the 1960s. Clara had no chance to learn I was pregnant before she was gone, but <em>somehow </em>she would find out. James brought Elizabeth back to me, where the thought of her middle name brought me to tears.</p><p>"I wish she was here." I said as I slowly shed my tears.</p><p>"She is, Mar." Amelie said to me before kissing me on the head.</p><p>The baby and I were finally able to sleep for some time, while everyone had left us to get some food together. I was half-asleep when I heard them come back into the room, and overheard Amelie and Anne talking to their parents in French. It awoke me, and at the same time, my daughter began crying because I had just seen Amelie pick her up. She wasn't quite as used to being in Amelie's arms as she was in mine, or that was what I had thought, until she managed to calmly shush her successfully. It made me light up, seeing her already take responsibility for Elizabeth's life. I wanted Beth to be used to being held by others and not only her parents, so I allowed Anne to hold her for as long as she wanted. I could tell she already loved having a niece for the short time she had been out of the womb, and as she looked down at her in her arms I could see her smile as she gently played with her tiny hands.</p><p>Amelie and I got to leave the hospital with our daughter the following day, after she and I had been both doing well and it seemed there were no further reasons for us to be there for any longer. We made it home, where my mom met us to welcome Elizabeth into her home, where we would be until one week before Christmas when we would be in France for one month. Upon walking through the front door, I heard Amelie quietly say <em>bonjour </em>to Elizabeth, when I looked down at her and she had opened her eyes after resting for the entire night.</p><p>"Well, hello there, my little love," I said to her as she gazed at me with her beautiful baby blue eyes. I was almost in disbelief how calm and easy she had been. She had only cried when she was born and when Amelie wanted to hold her, but hadn't made any sounds since then. Even though she was focused and almost stunned by Amelie and I, we took her around the majority of the house where she would be most often. We all walked into her comfortable little nursery, invited in by its soft lavender walls and the lightly-colored carpeting, and the white furniture neatly placed around with a decorative round rug in the center, beneath the light resembling a fluffy cloud hanging from the ceiling. Elizabeth began to constantly motion her hands around, and slowly coo until she cried for the first time since yesterday, even though she had been comforted by the warmth of my arms and body for most of the day. We returned downstairs, where Amelie offered tea to my mom while I sat down with them to nurse Beth. For over an hour we were there discussing our plans for the following months, knowing Amelie and I were going to live in France for the end of the year and start of the new year to introduce our daughter to a new environment with new surroundings and people.</p><p>Today I had felt the happiest I felt in months, and I couldn't wait to begin this part of my life with my girlfriend and our baby girl.</p><hr/><p>The grey winter suddenly arrived before we knew it. Elizabeth had been perfectly growing and meeting the regular milestones for a newborn like her. Amelie's 22nd birthday was December 13th, two days before we were to leave for France. She celebrated by drinking nearly three glasses of champagne and was slightly intoxicated, while I drank an herbal tea and nothing else besides water since it was more appropriate to have for a mom who was nursing a new baby. I didn't allow Amelie to hold Beth since she began drinking, despite her being a gentle and careful person, but she surprisingly agreed that it would probably be best for her to not hold her until she felt more calm and sober. The 15th came, and I said goodbye to my mom at the airport as we were about to depart for Nice. Elizabeth and I slept well on the plane, and was still fast asleep when we arrived, and the scenery I viewed as we made our way to Amelie's French apartment had been something more stunning than the scenery back home. We arrived and walk in, to see the incredible and traditional French design, which Amelie had completely decorated to her liking. The interior was very inviting and cozy, and still it appeared as if it was recently cleaned. She and her family hadn't been back to Nice since the end of May, which had been the most recent time she took time out of an entire day to clean it thoroughly even though I wouldn't be there until seven months later. We would spend most of our time at the flat, but occasionally could visit her parents and Anne as they hadn't been too far; we were to spend Christmas and ring in the New Year with them, which to me would be a new experience, since we were in a different country, and Amelie and her family enjoyed drinking on different holidays, including Anne who already had been of age to legally drink in France, while I was strongly refraining myself from drinking any alcohol at all and wouldn't continue to drink any until Beth was no longer nursing.</p><p>Our first week at Amelie's flat passed. Our first Christmas together had arrived, and to my surprise the majority of the gifts Amelie and I received were for our baby, consisting of adorable clothing, little toys, even things she wouldn't need until she was months older. Amelie asked her family to not drink too much because she knew it felt almost awkward for me, and her family became so focused on our relationship and Elizabeth's existence that they somewhat forgot they had been drinking at all. Her relatives seemed as if they hadn't seen a baby in years, nearly every one of them wanting to hold her and give her all their attention. I could hear her begin to coo in a tone that made me quickly recognize that she felt overwhelmed. I understood that I wanted to introduce her to Amelie's family and everything Nice had to offer, but I also understood how she felt and the amount of people she had just seen at once became too much for her. Amelie's aunt handed Elizabeth to her as she began crying, and struggled to stay calm even with how much she had warmed up to Amelie; she would try to calmly shush her like she would usually, which she was almost successful at, until she sat beside me with her in her arms where Beth caught a glimpse of me and focused on me in a moment of time. Of course, she wasn't very fond of meeting new people, and had only been used to Amelie and I, as well as her two aunts and grandparents. We noticed how she seemed somewhat interested when someone began speaking in French to her, especially when it was Amelie speaking it, but didn't enjoy it as much to hear everyone in the same room speaking French at once while admiring her youth and the color of her eyes. It was quite a long day, but I had enjoyed it, meeting Amelie's relatives whom some of them could understand English, and those who were currently learning it, but overtime I felt that my knowledge of the romantic language had increased and I could understand it more. It allowed me to fully realize how the language was most likely to become important when Elizabeth would develop her social skills and learn to speak, and it was possible she could learn French before English. Amelie eventually explained to her family that for us, it was a late night and Elizabeth had been awake much later than she should have been. We returned to her flat, where I didn't hesitate to put the baby to sleep. I watched her as she looked back at me and cooed, as she fell asleep and I laid her to bed. Amelie watched with a smile as she was sat at the edge of her bed, where I observed her and it was clear to me she had been waiting for me—she was waiting for <em>something—</em>she immediately stood up and came towards me, gently caressing my arm with one hand while she placed her other hand on my waist, looking at Elizabeth through her peripherals before making eye contact with me.</p><p>"Do you think we could fuck, while our daughter rests?" Amelie whispered to me. I had thought she would start to become interested in sex again, and of course I had thought about it as well, but to have sex on Christmas after being socially exhausted and wanting to sleep while my baby was already put to sleep, didn't feel too right to me. I held onto Amelie's hand and walked out of the bedroom with her, closing the door behind us to not disturb Elizabeth the slightest.</p><p>"Amelie, not tonight, I want to rest too," I politely replied, trying to make it clear that I <em>did </em>have a small interest in sex, but on this night specifically I shockingly had no interest in the sensuality that always came from it.</p><p>"Please?" She asked, beginning to sound desperate. "It wouldn't have to be in our bedroom, it could be in the second bedroom upstairs. We can be quick, I promise you." I knew of the guest bedroom on the second floor, and that Amelie wanted it to be as appealing as every other room in the flat, but I wanted her to know that tonight was <em>not </em>the night for it. I wanted to be there for Elizabeth at every hour, so either of us could attend to her needs at any moment like we had been doing since she was born. Even one week after we brought her home from the hospital, we hadn't had sex at all, and at the moment it had been eleven months since we decided to stop.</p><p>"Babe, I'm not in the mood for it right now, please," I again said in a polite tone. "You know you have two hands and an imagination, and you should realize that tonight isn't the night, ok?" I told her before kissing her on the cheek, saying <em>I love you </em>and walking back into the bedroom to rest. It seemed like quite some time before she came to bed, when I hadn't been fully asleep yet and I could feel Amelie lay beside me as she kissed me near my shoulder and began to spoon me.</p><p>Amelie wasn't in bed the next morning. I leaned towards the edge to see Elizabeth still sleeping peacefully, but was almost concerned that Amelie was gone, until she walked into the bedroom with a cup of coffee and one of the croissants she had baked three days earlier, greeting me with her everyday <em>bonjour </em>as she sat next to me. </p><p>"I'm sorry about last night," I said to her, knowing she was somewhat disappointed that we couldn't have sex the night before, but also knew that she respected that I didn't allow her to have my consent.</p><p>"Don't be, Mar, my imagination can do things," She giggled as she finished her sentence. I quickly assumed that had explained where she had been after leaving her outside her bedroom, and I hoped that was exactly what she had done. As I ate the croissant, she looked over my shoulder to see Elizabeth almost frantically moving her legs and quietly cooing. "Baby's awake, and I want to take you two places." By that, she had been referring to what we discussed before, that before the end of the year she wanted to take me to multiple locations in Nice and take in its prepossessing appearance it had with its architecture and natural beauty. Despite the current weather for the time of year, she first brought us to the Promenade des Anglais that laid upon the shore of the Mediterranean Sea, with its deep waters being a beauteous color that was alike the eyes of my girlfriend and our baby.</p><p>Over the next four days, we were sightseeing throughout Nice, and the day after came New Year's Eve. I warned Amelie about not drinking as much alcohol as she typically would, but she could drink enough to not be drunk. She may not be the one who got pregnant and is responsible for feeding our daughter, but she was <em>still </em>responsible for attending to Elizabeth's needs with me, and if I couldn't fulfill any of her needs at a certain time then only Amelie could. And she did exactly that; she drank nothing but a single <em>pastis</em>—an alcoholic beverage I hadn't heard of, considering how much she enjoyed educating me about anything French. As the time struck midnight and the entire world began celebrating the New Year, Amelie and I would kiss each other along with her parents, while Anne did nothing besides drink more champagne like she had been the whole night. The next night, of course, Amelie and I were back at her exquisite flat, where after she put Elizabeth to sleep, she thought she would take a chance to ask me the exact question she asked me six nights prior. I stopped her before she could even ask, simply saying <em>yes. </em>She was almost confused and took me to the lounge where we sat down together. She wasn't going to ask me if we could fuck, but rather asked if we could go on a date together — our first anniversary was in three days, which I became highly interested in yet was not prepared for at all. It meant we would have to leave the baby with Amelie's parents, and Beth would only rely on me for nourishment for the first year of her life.</p><p>"Amelie, we can't leave the baby," I told her, with a slight tone in my voice that might make me seem concerned.</p><p>"Because she's very interested in your tits?" She asked me, raising an eyebrow and softly giggling. It made me blush and jokingly roll my eyes.</p><p>"That's the exact reason, yes," I replied with sarcasm before letting out a small chuckle. "But yes, she needs not only me but both of us, babe. We can have our date, but the baby's coming with us." Amelie jerked her eyes towards the stairs before looking at me again.</p><p>"Then, could we fuck?" She suggested, slowly shrugging her shoulders.</p><p>"Yes, and I know you've been gesturing your eyes towards the stairs." She giggled again as I said that, and she held my hand as we walked up to the guest bedroom. The second she closed the door she cupped my face with one hand and her other hand was on my waist, and we kissed for some time until we stopped and looked each other in the eyes.</p><p>"Are you sure this is okay?" She asked calmly like she always would do before we did anything besides kiss. Amelie had always been a caring person, and since the first time we had sex she would always ask twice if I was alright with it. I quickly nodded my head <em>yes </em>before kissing her again and letting her do what she was anticipating. We soon were in each other's arms, beneath the comfort of the unused duvet that suddenly only covered the arch of our backs and ending at our feet. Amelie, at this time, was more interested in having sex than I was one year ago but she wanted to do almost anything she could that might possibly increase my desire for it, which worked every damn time—all the previous times we slept together taught her that the gentleness of her fingertips made my body feel as if I was sensitive to the touch, but in a way that was stimulating, even for her—we were there for what must have been over one hour, fucking and then continuing to relax as our bodies had just released an intense dose of oxytocin that always came after sex, but I knew Amelie wanted to sleep there after making small talk, but as for me it felt inappropriate to sleep in a room separate from where my baby was, especially in a bedroom that wasn't on the same story.</p><p>"Amelie, don't fall asleep!" I said quietly yet felt as if I was almost shouting, as I grasped her arm and shook her. I assured her that it wouldn't be right or mother-like to sleep in a separate room from our baby—even if back in Westport she had her own nursery, but Amelie's apartment didn't—in this case the thought of my daughter crying while I wasn't close to her made me feel like shit, even uncomfortable that she was alone on the first floor. We quickly dressed ourselves and returned to our room, where she literally had been sleeping like a baby, and that was the end of the beginning of our New Year.</p><hr/><p>Our first anniversary snuck up on us like a wolf seeking out prey. The entire day we were celebrating it, of course, and that morning Amelie had been out of the apartment only to return with a bouquet of white roses—thought it was slightly cliché, especially since she was French—but I didn't give a single fuck because she was my girlfriend and I still thought it was sweet. In the evening we left for our date that we spent the majority of our time everywhere in Nice, nowhere specifically, before we finally visited the Place Masséna after walking from the elegant Promenade des Anglais. We stood at the fountain together where Beth was sleeping peacefully, and my eyes made a panorama of the magnificent scene. That was when I made an attempt to speak to Amelie, until I turned towards her—I decided at that moment, it wasn't the time for <em>me </em>to speak. It made my jaw drop, by what my eyes directed me to, that had been the sight of my girlfriend, whom to my surprise had been proposing to me. My hands began shaking, I became at a loss for both words and thoughts, that exactly one year later she thought to herself <em>that's my wife</em>. Other people had been passing by at the time and paused in their footsteps as Amelie was talking to me. Again, it seemed cliché, but not a single shit was given, because it was like a daydream—like it was in my wildest dreams. Amelie's calm tone captivated me and it felt as if time stopped in the moment, and in the end she finished with <em>the </em>five words I expected her to say. Everyone nearby the fountain was listening. I stood before her as she held the beautiful ring, waiting for my response as I appeared shocked, doing nothing but listening to everything she had said and admiring the moonlight that was reflecting in her blue eyes like a mirrorball. My heart was racing and I was nervous, and managed to hold back the release of my emotions. It felt like I stood there forevermore while having yet to speak.</p><p>"Oui." Amelie rapidly stood up to place the ring on my finger and kiss me as everyone watched. It was <em>exactly </em>like a daydream. I was stunned. She wasn't just my girlfriend—she was my <em>fiancé.</em></p><p>At the end of January, we returned to Westport where my mom met us at the airport, and visited her home on Estes Avenue before Amelie and I would return home with our daughter. The house was <em>mine</em>—no longer in Alan's possession one bit. With the slight wealth I gained from my step-father's passing, it would assist in the payments for our home but also for our needs. On that Friday after we returned, I received the documents for the house where at the end I proudly signed my name <em>Marjorie </em>and the house and its entire property was left to me, as Amelie watched.</p><p>Amelie said nothing but one word as we confirmed the house under our name.</p><p><em>Merci</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>damn this took nearly 8 hours to finish as i had to write all the parts i didn't originally leave in, which i never actually wrote before and had to write purely from my memory since i already planned the original story long before changing it! if you read this version as well thank you &lt;3 once again my twitter is @evermoredagger if you're curious, don't know why anyone would follow me bc i'm boring as hell but i'm there bc what else is there to do &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>